The Fantasy Fan, March 1934: The Fans' Own Magazine

In Short

This collection serves as a preservation of the 1934 fan magazine, The Fantasy Fan. It is a vital record of the early days of genre fandom, capturing the voices of influential figures like H.P. Lovecraft and Clark Ashton Smith through letters, essays, and short fiction. By documenting the exchange of ideas between readers and authors, the magazine captures a nascent subculture finding its identity. It survives as a historical artifact, offering a window into the intellectual and creative passions that fueled the evolution of speculative fiction before it became a mainstream cultural phenomenon.

The Story

The narrative of The Fantasy Fan is one of community building and creative exploration. It opens with the editorial voices of Charles D. Hornig and the enthusiastic letters of its contributors, who treat the publication as a shared hearth. Readers like Bob Tucker and Duane W. Rimel engage in rigorous, intellectual debates, discussing the nuances of supernatural literature and critiquing the work of their peers with surprising fervor.

The magazine’s "story" progresses through a series of thematic installments and creative pieces. It features "Gods of the North," a visceral, atmospheric tale by Robert E. Howard, which follows a warrior named Amra as he tracks a beautiful, icy enchantress through a frozen, supernatural landscape. This central piece of fiction provides a stark, haunting contrast to the analytical essays that follow. H.P. Lovecraft contributes a scholarly segment on the history of the horror tale, tracing its evolution from folktales to the Gothic movement. Meanwhile, lighter fare appears in the form of satire, such as Hoy Ping Pong’s cynical, humorous guide on how to manufacture a "weird tale" by recycling tired plot tropes and using unnecessarily complex vocabulary to baffle readers.

As the pages turn, the magazine explores the intersection of the mechanical and the emotional. A summary of a story about a depressed robot, Julius, illustrates the burgeoning interest in the philosophical implications of artificial life. This is balanced by technical bibliographical notes, such as R.H. Barlow’s detailed history of the printing of H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. The collection concludes with a look ahead to future issues, cementing its role as a living, breathing organ of a growing movement. The arc is not one of a single plot, but of a collective intellectual journey, as fans and writers refine their understanding of what fantasy could be, moving from simple thrills toward a deeper, more sophisticated aesthetic recognition of the "weird." The magazine ends not with a resolution, but with a promise of continuity, reflecting the persistent, restless curiosity of a community dedicated to exploring the boundaries of the imagination.

How It Unfolds

A community gathers The magazine establishes its tone through a robust letters column where readers discuss their favorite authors and debate the merits of specific departments within the publication. This creates an immediate sense of intimate, high-stakes discourse among fans.

The heroic adventure Robert E. Howard’s short story introduces a brutal, surreal encounter between a lone warrior and a frost-giant's daughter, grounding the magazine in the visceral realities of fantasy prose. The story serves as the emotional and aesthetic heart of the issue.

Literary history and analysis H.P. Lovecraft provides a dense, authoritative essay detailing the emergence of the Gothic school, adding academic weight to the publication. This establishes the magazine as a serious venue for genre criticism.

Satire and self-reflection The collection shifts gears with a tongue-in-cheek guide on writing weird fiction, which mocks the very industry the magazine supports. This allows for a necessary moment of levity and self-awareness.

Bibliographical rigor The magazine pivots to technical detail, cataloging the publication history of H.G. Wells’ work. This reinforces the fan community’s obsession with the physical artifacts and histories of their favorite literature.

The promise of more The final pages serve as a prospectus, detailing upcoming contributions and subscription rates. It leaves the reader with the sense that the conversation is ongoing and ever-expanding.

The People

The people of The Fantasy Fan are both the contributors and the icons they debate. Charles D. Hornig, the editor, acts as a steady hand, guiding the dialogue and maintaining the magazine’s inclusive yet discerning standards. H. P. Lovecraft appears as a mentor-like figure, offering thoughtful, serious philosophical arguments about the nature of horror as an art form rather than a mere amusement. Clark Ashton Smith is represented both as a poet of the macabre and as a subject of high praise; his work is treated as the gold standard for atmospheric, weird fiction. Amra, the protagonist of Howard’s story, represents the archetypal hero—a man of action who finds himself overwhelmed by forces beyond his understanding, reflecting the awe and terror that readers seek in the genre. Meanwhile, contributors like Bob Tucker and Duane W. Rimel embody the vocal, dedicated reader who keeps the magazine alive by demanding more from their authors and engaging in spirited, occasionally argumentative, feedback.

In Its Own Voice

“The impulse and atmosphere are as old as man, but the typical weird tale of standard literature is a child of the eighteenth century.”

Lovecraft frames the history of the horror story within the broader context of Western literary evolution.

“Amra’s pulse hammered in his temples.”

In Howard’s story, the hero’s visceral physical reaction highlights the intense, almost intoxicating effect of the supernatural encounter.

“He realized the hopelessness of the situation.”

In the summary of the story about Julius the robot, the author captures the unexpected pathos found in a machine that has gained the capacity for human suffering.

What It's Really About

At its core, this magazine is a manifesto on the legitimacy of the "weird" as a serious literary pursuit. The writers and readers are preoccupied with the question of why humanity finds delight in the horrific and the impossible. They argue that the emotional power of a story—the ability to capture a mood or a basic human emotion—matters more than whether the subject matter is "pleasant." The collection acts as an inquiry into the definition of art, pushing back against the idea that speculative fiction is merely for the immature. It is about the struggle to carve out a space for imagination in a rational, modern world, and the joy of finding others who share that same, shadow-haunted perspective.

Why Read It Today

Reading this magazine feels like stepping into a time capsule of a lost, intellectually vibrant subculture. For those interested in the history of science fiction and fantasy, it is an essential primary source that captures the raw, unpolished energy of a movement in its adolescence. Readers will be struck by the sophistication of the fan correspondence; despite the 1934 publication date, the discourse is remarkably modern in its passion and depth.

The text does carry the attitudes of its time, particularly in how it categorizes people and literature, which serves as a stark reminder of the era’s limitations. Some of the prose, especially in the stories, leans into a highly stylized, dense romanticism that may feel antiquated to contemporary readers used to faster-paced narratives. However, the experience of reading these exchanges—the arguments, the bibliographies, and the earnest excitement—is rewarding. It preserves the genuine, unfiltered enthusiasm of people who believed they were participating in the birth of something important. What stays with you is the sense of community; it is a testament to how literature, even at its most "weird" and alienating, has an unparalleled power to bring people together across vast distances, turning isolated readers into a collective, searching force.